Once Upon a Sixth Year
by Brayden James Persephone
Summary: Draco Malfoy has done horrible things, but is it always so cut and dry? He tells us of his experiences throughout his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and a bit of postHogwarts. Post HBP. Mainly Draco, but ultimately a DracoGinny
1. The Task at Hand

**Author's Note:** This is my first fanfic. Be brutally honest (as that's what I need). Please Read and Review. I want no holds barred critiques here, because that's the only way to improve. This chapter has yet to be BETA's by my two cohorts Nat and Rosie, so I am sure that it will be reposted at some time with changes. Thank you! _Brayden James Persephone_

**Disclaimer:**The cannon characters are not mine. Some of the situations and dialogue are not mine (As I am trying to keep this as close to cannon as possible). All rights to the characters belong to none other than the glorious JK Rowling, who has inspired us to drool over her brainchihldren and place them in horrifically embarassing and angsty situations. Thank you JK, you have given us reason to drool (especially over Draco).

**Once Upon a Sixth Year**

**Chapter one: The Task at Hand**

_I will be the first to admit it. My life has not turned out the way that I, or anyone else expected it to. I had always imagined that my family name and my wealth would be enough to support me and keep me safe. I never even thought that those who I detested so would be the ones to help me reclaim my life. Sometimes when you look back on things, you realize that everything you stood for was fake. My life was false and meaningless._

_Despite always priding myself on being the leader, I realized far too quickly that I was only a pawn in the game. Instead of making my own decisions, they were laid out in front of me. What a fool I once was. I suppose that what they always say is true. Hind-sight is 20/20._

_It all started on the first train ride to Hogwarts. At the time, I didn't give a second thought to what I was saying to the boy who lived. All I could see was that one of the most famous wizards ever known was fraternizing with someone as lowly as a Weasley. I still can't stand most of the brood, but I will admit that Potter had courage to turn down an offer of friendship by a Malfoy. I was livid when he answered me. He just stared at my hand and basically told me to sod off! Of course, it wasn't in so many words. At the time, I couldn't understand why he would have preferred to associate with the Weasel King over me, but to each his own. My life seemed to go swimmingly without the friendship of the famous Harry Potter._

_I hated Potter and everything that he stood for. He was fair, honest, and brave. I was sneaky, self-serving, and cold. How was it that he had grown up with just as little affection and love as I did and yet he was able to be so different from me? I hated him for it. I hated the fact that he had friends and I had lackeys. In another world, maybe I would have been Gryffindor as well, but not in this world. The sorting hat saw me as a Slytherin through and through. Not to say I wasn't happy, but I was also ignorant. I had been raised to see Slytherin as the only worthwhile house. The others were all weak in my fathers eyes. In Lucius Malfoy's eyes, there could be no weaknesses. There could be no friends, no love, no laughter and no conscience. The only way to truly be strong was to be without a soul. It was a goal that had been instilled in me since birth._

_Every year was the same at Hogwarts. Danger, intrigue, and Saint Potter saving the day. The first year, Potter saved the Philosopher's stone. Second year, Potter saved the youngest Weasel from the hands of the Dark Lord. Third year, Potter managed to unravel some mystery or another. Fourth year, Potter watched the Dark Lord return and lived to tell the tale. Fifth year, Potter and his friends outsmarted myself and the inquisitorial Squad, as well as battling in the department of mysteries. Sixth year though, sixth year I won against Potter and I paid dearly for it. At the time I thought it was all Potter's fault. If Potter's escapade in the Department of Mysteries had not happened, my father would have never been in Azkaban. If my father had not been locked up, I would have never been recruited. I blamed Potter for my hardships, sometimes I still do._

_Up until my sixth year, I had little to worry about. My biggest issues were presented by the golden trio and my biggest concern was to make their lives as miserable as possible. My grades were high and my lackeys were always there. My life was perfect. Then, as blissful as my life was, it was all turned upside down with a mission given to me by Lord Voldemort himself._

_That is where my story will begin for you. These are the events of my sixth and seventh years. These events are what made me who I am today. Don't judge me. Don't pity me. Look at what I tell you with detatchment. There is no clear good or evil in my story. As much as the Gryffindoric valor would like to place everything in a category of black versus white, my life was lived in the gray areas in between. Good and Evil are all relative. Now I begin._

_Once upon a time in sixth year,_

* * *

It was damp and cold in the dungeons of Voldemort's chambers. They had taken me to this god-forsaken place with a hood over my head, to prevent me from knowing it's location. Despite the clammy surroundings I found myself in, I could feel a slight summer breeze permeate the small window in the corner of the room. A glimmer of moonlight could be seen through the bars. It was the summer after my fifth year, and nothing in my life was right. 

My father was in Azkaban and it seemed that I would be punished for his actions. At least that's what I thought at the time. My father had never been the perfect parent. There was no sign of affection shown to me and there was no fatherly warmth to remember. Lucius Malfoy was a cold and calculating man, who thought that any sign of love was a weakness. He had taught me to be strong and self-sustaining, but he left my mother to do the coddling. Lucius Malfoy was my best friend, my biggest critic and my worst enemy, all wrapped up in the perfect mask of an ice king. I loved the man, although I am loathe to use the term love. He was my hero, and sitting alone in that room, I learned that even heroes fell.

It had not been ten minutes in the moldy cell when a hooded and masked figure came to gather me. She may not have been identifiable by facial features, but her voice was one that I had heard thousands of times. I was sure that it was the form of my aunt Bellatrix, who fancied herself to be Voldemort's most trusted advisor. She was so naive to think that the Dark Lord truly trusted anyone. We were all pawns in his game, and I would soon be a happy and willing participant for him. In those days, any of us would have thrown ourselves at the mercy of the Dark Lord and kissed his feet happily. Now that I think about it, he chose some of the most insecure people that he could find. If you volunteer to be strong and in charge, the insufferably insecure will flock to you. The sheep always need their shepard. Although many learned that the Dark Lord was nothing but a wolf among the flock.

My aunt Bellatrix loved me. She also loved the Dark Lord. She thought that there was no higher honor than allowing me to join the game. She would willingly sacrifice me (or her own children, if she had had any) for the cause of the Dark Lord. A woman that I had once respected so, now only resembled a lovesick puppy. She was possibly the blindest of them all, apart from my father.

Aunt Bella slowly led me out of the room in which they had placed me so unceremoneously. The corrdidors around me were the same black bricks, tinged with wet and algae. It seemed that there were endless hallways, one twisting after the other until I was so confused that I swore we had been in the same corridor multiple times. I later learned that this was a way of keeping me from memorizing the labrynth of passageways, lest I tried to escape. Didn't they know that they had already hooked me? There was no need for such diversions, because I would have given my life and loyalty to Voldemort, were he to request it. After what seemed like twenty minutes of walking down hallways, Bella stopped in fron of a heavy oak door and knocked three times. The door had been gilded with silver leaf and emeralds, all curving and twisting into serpentine shapes. It was a work of art, and one that was not lost on my Slytherin heart.

When the door finally opened, I was led into a large room. One could only guess that it was a ballroom of sorts at one time. Seated at the far end of the room, was Voldemort. In all of his snakelike glory, he was perched on a throne that was a twisted seat of stone serpents. Even the Slytherin in me thought that it was a bit overdone. I had to thank the Gods that he hadn't read my thoughts. An insult on the Dark Lord would have meant death for me at the time. Standing on the other side of my lord, was my mother. She looked far more pale than usual and her eyes were ringed with dark circles. I hadn't seen her that tired looking since the ministry raids on our home. Her lack of composure only made my worries deepen. There was no reason for her to look like that. Then again, that was before I knew about my mission.

In such a position as I was in, I wasn't going to take any chances in angering the Dark Lord. He was our master, and I was a lowly servant. In a _very_ uncharacteristic gesture, I stepped forward and knelt down in front of Voldemort's throne. I gingerly placed my lips on the hem of his robes and kept my head down until he spoke to me. Slytherins may be a proud race, but what we know above all other things is the idea of self-preservation. It was self-preservation that caused me to grovel at the Lord's feet. I am not proud of this display, nor am I proud of the ones that would come after it. However, they were necessary.

"Young Malfoy."

The Dark Lord's voice was an odd serpentine rasp. The mere memory of it brings chills down my spine. It was a voice that was thick with power, and yet completely inhuman as well. That voice will haunt my dreams forever. I only replied with the requisite 'Yes, Master.', and awaited my punishment for my father's shortcomings.

"Your father has failed me, boy. Now you must complete this task for me, or you will see both of your parents killed. This is not an optional assignment. You will complete it or suffer the consequences."

At that moment, a cold fear should have passed through my stomach. I should have felt more aprehension. However, if you look at it from my point of view, it meant that I would not be killed to punish my father. The assignment meant that I had a chance to atone for my father's mistakes. It also meant that I would be able to show the Dark Lord how useful I was. It was a silly thing for anyone to wish. However, I wanted nothing more at that time than to become Voldemort's lowly servant. If I was able to ensure the protection of my family in the process, all the better. In acknowledgement to the Dark Lord's words, I only nodded my head and told him I understood. I kept my words to a minimum, because the less was said, the less chance I had of pissing him off. I was being given a rare chance to prove myself, and Merlin save me if I was going to allow my insolent tongue to muck it up for me.

When the Dark Lord told me to stand, I stole a glance at my mother. I could see a look of fear and sadness on her eyes and it almost cracked my icy little heart to see it. She looked so weak and pitiable, I couldn't help but be a bit disgusted. I loved my mother, no doubt about that. Or at least I had an emotion for her that was like love. She was weak though. Weakness did not bode well with the Dark Lord and it meant that you would be killed faster in battle. Emotions should never get in your way and my mother was showing far too much emotion at that time. I quickly turned my stare back to the Dark Lord, inclining my head slightly to show him my willingness to accept his mission.

"You are to figure out a way to infiltrate Hogwart's. Upon doing this, you will lead a team of my most loyal followers into the school. Your responsibility Draco, is to corner Headmaster Dumbledore and kill him. If you do not complete this task, your parents will suffer the consequences, as will you." I could only nod. There was nothing else for me to do. I couldn't show my joy outwardly, as it would have been highly inapropriate. I also couldn't voice my reservations, as that would show my weakness.

"Yes, my Lord. I will do all that you command of me." I answered in a grateful tone. In truth, I was grateful. I was almost downright giddy with excitement at first. However, first impressions aren't always right. I would later learn the Dark Lord's motives in assigning that task to me. There would only be one way to describe his true intentions, sadistic. Voldemort gave me a time limit of eight months to complete my task and he sent me on my way. My mother followed soon after me, weeping silently as my aunt Bellatrix placed the hood back over my face.

A few moments later, I found myself at home. My mother had left to find Severus Snape and I was left to ponder the task that was set before me. It was late August and I had two weeks before I left for my sixth year at Hogwarts. If I were to complete this task and ensure the safety of my family and myself, it would take the most careful planning possible. However, the only thing I could do at that point was to go to my room and go to bed. I would get up early the next morning and do what was needed. That night I would sleep and ponder the Dark Lord's orders.

* * *

_This was my task. Believe it or not, I was excited about it. That only goes to show you how the mind of a naive boy works. I never thought about what it actually meant to take on this order. Then again, I never really thought anything through back in those days. My life was what my father had made it to be. Somehow, I don't even think he would have been happy with the Dark Lord's orders. Gods know my mother was distraught._

_This would only be the beginning of the longest year of my life. I can't regret any of it though. If it were not for that year and my mistakes, I would have never seen the life that I could have. I would never have been the person that I am today._


	2. The Beginning of the End

**A/N: **This is a moderately long chapter. I'm not sure how much I like it, because it's really just filler. The events are mainly taken out of the sixth book, as well as the dialogue. I promise you that soon we'll get to more original Draco stuff. Seeing as how there's less of him as the book continues (not to mention, less important meetings between Draco and the Golden Trio). I will also manipulate a few things to add Ginny into it, but there will NOT be a Draco/Ginny romance until we get into the next year and post Hogwarts. I was also thinking of doing this story in two parts, as my story of his sixth year will be long enough. Tell me what you think, R&R (PLEASE!)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Draco. I do not own the Golden Trio and I do not own any other characters, the original plot points or most ofthe conversations. I do, however, own Draco's personal thoughts and some of his actions. Don't sue me.

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Beginning of the end**

_As I have said before, good and evil are far from cut and dry. I was happy that the Dark Lord trusted me with such a mission, but the more time I had to think about it, the more bleak my outlook seemed. At the tender age of sixteen, I didn't see the chances I had in completing such a quest. The excitement did not fade quickly. If anything, Slytherins are determined. I was dead-set on completing my duty for the lord. I was willing to go to hell and back to do what he asked of me. I would have laid my heart out on a platter for him and allowed him to eat it. Do not cringe at the imagery, for it is the honest truth. Little did I know that this task might just lead to that untimely death that I would give so gratefully to the Dark Lord. _

_I am sure you are asking yourself if I took on the mark that night. My answer would be no. Thankfully, as I don't know how I would live today with such an unsightly blemish on my skin. I was only sixteen, and considered too young for the mark. My soul could not have taken the burden and it would have broken, had I allowed the mark to pierce my skin. For my job though, it would have seemed imprudent to have it. It would have had to stay hidden for me to be in Hogwarts. Nothing could jeopardize the mission and there would have been consequences if someone were to discover the mark. So the Lord chose not to mark me. At the time I was upset, but I understood the need for me to seem pure._

_Idealism is not a trait that you will find in most of Slytherin house. Over the years though, I have discovered that it does exist. It is in it's purest form when shown in a Slytherin child's willingness to die for the Dark Lord's cause. It may be a morbid form of idealism, but it was ever present. _

_I must explain something to you though. I may have confused you when I spoke of the lack of love in my home. I told you that my mother was left to coddle me, but do not mistake her affections for love. The woman showered me with gifts and praise. She treated me as any doting mother should. There was something lacking though, in the admiration that my mother shed on me. That is exactly what it was, admiration. There was no warmth in it and there was no sign of love. They were cold gifts from a cold woman. My mother gave me what she could. I truly believe that had we not been Malfoys and had she not been such the ideal Slytherin, there would have been love in my home. It would have been showered in abundance. Alas, those who never learn to love cannot love others. In the same light, you cannot love another until you love yourself. My mother was self-loathing. She had been conditioned through twenty years of marriage to Lucius, to see herself as nothing. With every beating, my mother lost her ability to care. She was a pitiable creature, but I cannot forgive her for her coldness. She should have been a mother, but instead she was a steel automaton made to dispense money, praise and gifts. A machine does not love._

_How can you truly love a machine?_

* * *

It would be a stretch to say I got any rest that night. My dreams had been haunted with fear. It was a cold, black fear that seemed to envelope and suffocate me. I had never had dreams like that before. There was nothing around me but a darkness that could not be pierced. In retrospect, I think that my fears in taking the mission were subconsciously forming themselves and trying to break through my cool and collected mask. When I woke the next morning, I was in a cold sweat. I had almost fallen from my bed in a panic, unable to shake the last dregs of fear from me. It was a very ungraceful leap that I had made from my bed, trying to make my way to the private bath as soon as possible. When I had finally walked shakily to the black marble washroom, I was able to push the last few worries from my mind as I went to the obsidian sink to splash cold water on my face.

Looking in the mirror, I admired the face staring back at me. The true narcissist that I was, I couldn't help but smile. My face was glorious. It may have been a bit sharp and chiseled, but it was befitting an aristocrat. My eyes were, and still are, quicksilver orbs that could see into the souls of those around me. I could bore holes into people with those eyes, and I often did. They were unsettling and mesmerizing at the same time. Then again, everything has conflicting qualities. Whether it be a soft look on a hard surface or beauty in a gargoyle. There was something primal about my eyes though, and I always found them to be my greatest asset.

My hair was spun silk. It had grown rather long by that time and it shadowed my eyes and framed my face perfectly. I had stopped slicking it back in my fourth year as a way to make it easier for women to run their fingers through it as they yelled my name in bed. Yes, I truly was a sex god. Still am if you ask me. My hair was silvery blonde, an odd color, even for a Malfoy. My family was always known for their white blonde locks that prematurely turned to pure white. My father's hair had been completely white by the time he was twenty. My hair though, was almost silver, but kept that yellowish tint that classified it as blonde.

My body was chiseled and muscular, but not overly so. They were a perfect shape and size from the countless hours I spent in Quidditch training. My low riding, green silk pants showed off my torso perfectly and my alabastor skin shimmered in the light of the bathroom. Yes, I was very narcisistic, and still am to an extent.

Breaking out of my reverie, I shook my head and made my way back to my bedroom to get dressed for the day. I would have breakfast with my mother and with any luck, she would tell me why it was so important for her to see Snape the night before. I had a small idea of her reasons, but it was far from what she had actually done.

"Snape will protect you during the year." My mother spoke in her normal sharp tone as she lifted the teacup to her lips. She was a regal looking woman, with her waist length blonde hair and her pointed features. I had her nose, small and sloped gracefully. Her hands were perfectly manicured and her posture spoke volumes about her breeding. She was the perfect trophy wife to Lucius.

"Really, mother? And what would prompt him to do that. What would prompt you to think that I cannot protect myself?" I asked her in a similar tone, pushing around the eggs on my plate with a fork. I was angry that she had presumed that I could not take care of myself. I was a Malfoy after all.

"The unbreakable vow is why." Her reply stunned me. I looked up with an indignant grimace and pushed my chair away from the table as I stood abruptly. As calm as ever, my mother only continued with her meal despite my outbust.

"Why, mother, would you even consider doing something that stupid? You really are daft to assume that I am not capable of fulfilling my mission. Do you think that Snape will be able to help me? I don't need his help or anyone else's." I spat at her viciously. What I know now is that she was the smart one. She knew that a mission like mine was likely to break me. She did what was best for her son, whether or not I liked it.

"Sit down Draco. You are making a scene. If you are unable to fulfil your mission in any way, Snape will finish it. You do not know the Dark Lord as I do, Draco. He gave you this mission in the hopes that you would be killed as a punishment to your father and I. I did what I had to in order to secure your future. There is no changing it now." She gazed intensely into my eyes, almost daring me to retort. I didn't though, I merely stormed out of the breakfast parlor before she could say another word. As much as I subconsciously knew that she was right, I wasn't ready to accept that. The Dark Lord trusted me with one of the most important missions there was. I was to take out the general. Death Eaters would look up to me when I was successful and I would be known as the man who defeated the undefeatable Dumbledore! I was drunk with power and the prospect of glory. You may not consider what I was going to do glorious, but it was in it's own right.

Over the next two weeks, I started to form a plan of attack. It would take alot of work, but in the end it would be worth it. I could almost taste the power I would gain. I had all but forgotten my mother's actions, and I acted as if I had forgotten her. I knew that the greatest punishment that I could bestow upon the silly woman was my silence. It would drive her mad. When I felt she had payed enough, I would break the silence. I began to speak to her again as the day for returning to Hogwarts drew near. It was the Friday before the train ride and she was to take me to Diagon Alley and get me fitted for my new school robes. She had been mercilessly clingy towards me and she showered me with the familiar praise as we stood in Madame Malkin's, getting fitted for my robes. I had tried to argue with her about shopping by myself, but she had refused to allow me to go alone.

The day had been long and hot. It looked as if it might be an indian summer that year. I was yelling at that dumpy old woman in the robes shop, when I caught a reflection in the mirror of the three people that I would like to see least. The Golden Trio had apparently felt it time to purchase their school things as well. Not like the Weasel King could have afforded half the things in Diagon Alley. They may have found a small fortune in Egypt a few years before that, but it didn't change the fact that no Weasley could hold onto their money. The pathetic family had squandered their galleons faster than you can say snitch. They really were a disgusting bunch and I had a faint feeling of sickness. I wanted nothing more than to puke from that Weasley stench. Of course, there was no real smell that could be attributed to Weasley, it was more that he reeked of poverty. Potter stank of undeserved glory and the mudblood was rank with a know it all air that made me want to strangle her whenever I looked at her. They may have been disgusting, but they were below me. I took great comfort in the fact that they didn't have any sort of power over me.

I was above them, and I knew it. I put on the haughtiest high and mighty sneer that I could muster and I glared at the three through the mirror's reflection. My mother and Madam Malkin's chattering was just a white noise in the background. I smirked inwardly and turned to my mother.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, mother, a mudblood just walked in."

I was quite proud of that little barb, and equally as proud of the reaction that Potty and the Weasel King gave me. They both drew their wands and pointed them at me. I knew that they wouldn't dare use magic in public, and I told them as much. I was happy to see that their reaction didn't change. Perhaps if they had hexed me, they would be kicked out of Hogwarts and I wouldn't have had to spend another grueling year in their presence. I was happy to see that Granger's eye was magnificently black and puffy. I had to commend whoever had given her that shiner.

It was then that my mother entered the conversation. "Put those away. If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it's the last thing you ever do." I was surprised that my mother had the guts to talk like that to Potter. Especially when Potter had the protection of Dumbledore and most of the wizarding world. She was, however, a Malfoy and she made sure to make that known to the golden trio. After a few exchanges between wonder boy and my mother, Potter said something that made me seeth with anger.

"... So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband." I nearly leapt forward to strangle the boy, but found out all too soon that I was not half as graceful in robes that were too long. I tripped very unceremoneously on the hem of my robe and fell forward. Had I not been as angry, I most likely would have died of embarassment. Instead of slinking away in shame, I cast the most seething glare I could muster at Potter.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" I snarled at the black haired boy, advancing to show him, in a very physical way, how much I detested him. It was my mother's hand that restrained me though, keeping me from pummeling the boy-who-wouldn't-fucking-die.

"It's alright, Draco. I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius." My mother had a gift. It was the same gift that I had. It was the ability to see someone else's weaknesses and strike them where it hurt. It was the ability to read someone like an open book. Of course the mention of Black was the barb that would sting Potter the most. I almost had to restrain myself from clapping at my mother's comment. It was so ruthless and cut-throat. It was in that moment that I remembered why she made such a good Malfoy. I wasn't paying attention to the old woman that was measuring my sleeve, but I felt the definate prick of a needle in my arm.

"Watch where you're putting your pins woman! Mother, I don't think I want these anymore." I stated blandly, glaring at the blushing woman next to me. I pulled the robes over my head and left them in a tattered heap on the floor. It would do no good to buy robes that were tainted with the stink of Potty and his cronies. My mother merely nodded towards me and sent another comment at the threesome before we walked out of the shop. I have stated that I don't really love my mother, and it's true. My reasoning for defending her was pride. She was a Malfoy, and nobody was going to threaten or badmouth a Malfoy around me.

My mother dragged me around a bit, taking me into Twillfit and Tattings to buy the robes I would have otherwise bought at Madam Malkin's. It wasn't too long after the incident in the robe shop that I was able to shake off my mother. She went into the beauty parlor to get a manicure and her hair trimmed. I told her that I was going to go to the apothecary, but I had other plans. There was something far more important to be done than buy potions supplies. I quickly made my way through the alley and to a dark corner that marked the entrance to Knocturn Alley. It was a despicable place, and I fit right in. My destination was none other than Borgin and Burke's, a place that I had gone to with my father the summer before my second year.

Borgin and Burke's was a special sort of place. It was a hole in the wall shop that was located under a dark archway. The sign was old and battered, hanging from rusty chains over the door. This store was where any dark witch or wizard could find what they wanted. The counter was tended by a twisted old wizard who had the tendency to cower at the sight of my father. It was quite annoying really, but my father was not there. Mr. Borgin also knew what he was talking about, which made him my gratest asset at the moment. I made my way to the shop door, pushing it open and walking into the dimly lit showroom. The merchandise was amazing. Borgin and Burke had everything from shriveled heads, mummy hands, enchanted cabinets, books on the dark arts and cursed heirlooms. The latter was what I was interested in.

The year that my father had taken me to the shop, I remembered seeing a necklace there. It was a beautiful mixture of silver and opals, something that would be fitting for a high society woman. I, on the other hand, knew of the power that such an innocent looking object held. I will not tell you now what was wrong with the necklace, for it all comes to you in time. The most important thing though, was an old cabinet that I had seen before. It was an old broken cabinet that would be very important to my cause. Once again though, all will be revealed in time.

After a few choice words with Mr. Borgin, I secured both purchases and made sure that they would be held for me. Having a werewolf on your side tended to be a very strong argument. I had just begun spinning my web, and when it was ready, I would swallow Dumbledore like the spider swallows the fly. I could already feel the power that I so longed for, welling up inside me. I quickly turned from Mr. Borgin and swept out of the store, not even glancing backwards. The man would listen to me, with the threat of Fenrir Greyback looming over him.

It was a tangled plot that I was scheming. It was thick with danger, sneakiness and it reeked of the game that all Slytherins played so well. It was a game of deceit that I had learned so well since childhood. For me to succeed, there were a few things that I needed. Two of those things had just been purchased, another was at Hogwart's already and lastly I needed the time and patience to complete it. I had already been stripped of my prefecture because of the year before, but that would only do to give me more time. Now it was time to wait, and finish the fine details of my scheme.

All of this secrecy though, couldn't possible hide the fact that I was Draco Malfoy. I didn't waste time in insinuating to my fellow Slytherins that I was in league with the Dark Lord. It was so priceless to see their faces when I spoke of it. It all happened on the train ride to Hogwarts. I had been in the compartment for a while, chatting with my fellow sixth years (all of whome were a bit daft and rather boring). I was laying my head in Pansy's lap, allowing the cow to brush her fingers through my hair. Crabbe and Goyle were there in all of their dim-witted glory and Zabini was with our new professor having a "meeting" of some sort. We were waiting for him to get back, passing the time by talking nonsensically, mainly complaining about all of the mudbloods on the train.

When Zabini had finally returned, he had a little fight with the compartment door, which had refused to close. I paid no attention to it really. I had much more important things on my mind. I was mildly interested as Zabini fell onto Goyle and they began to wrestle apart from eachother. Out of the corner of my eye though, I saw a flash of white in the air. I wanted to think nothing of it though, I wasn't getting enough sleep.

"So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want anyway?" I asked, acting unimpressed and uninterested in what the answer would be. The answer though, did not make me happy. Zabini told me about how Slughorn was interested in becoming aquainted with all of the well connected students at Hogwarts. If that were the case, one would think that I should have been invited to it as well. It was rather disturbing. When I asked who else had been invited, I was shocked that Longbottom and the Weaslette had been invited as well. Longbottom was about as sharp as a quaffle and the Weasley girl was, well, a Weasley. Sure she was good looking, as Pansy quickly pointed out, but other than that she was a freckle faced child of blood traitors. Although, I had to cringe when I remembered the bat-bogey hex that she had placed on me the previous year. She was possibly even more vicious than her hot-tempered brother. Maybe it was that she was calmer and a bit more calculating. If she wasn't a Weasel, she might have been alright. Of course, I would never admitted that to anyone. As it stood, I hated her as much as her Weasel King brother.

After a while, our conversation turned. I told everyone that there was a good chance that I wouldn't be attending school the next year, but I would not tell them the true reason why. Instead I told them that the Dark Lord would not care about something as trivial as N.E.W.T.S. or O.W.L.S. anyway. The Dark Lord would only care about loyalty.

"And you think _you'll_ be able to do something for him?" Zabini asked me, in a scathing tone. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet!" He added in the same sharp voice. I simply glared at Zabini and answered him in the most unaffected tone I could muster. I spoke as if my answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job that he wants me to do isn't something that you need training to do." I was more than pleased with the reaction that I recieved. Crabbe and Goyle stared with their mouths agape, looking as if they were trying to catch flies with them. Pansy stared down at me in awe, I had only given her more the reason to dote upon me. Zabini's skin would have flushed if it wasn't as black as coal. Instead he settled for a rather embarassed look and averted his eyes to the seat. When I was completely satisfied with the outcome of our conversation, I pointed out that we were almost at Hogwarts and suggested that everyone channge.

Earlier, I had seen the flash of white. When Goyle pulled down his trunk forcefully, I heard a gasp. It was then that I knew someone was up on the luggage rack. I also had a fairly good idea of who it was. My father had once told me that Harry Potter had an invisibility cloak. Instead of unmasking Potter in front of the whole compartment, I waited for everone to leave, telling Pansy to proceed without me when she held out her hand. As if I would have held her hand anyway, she was repulsive. Once everyone was gone, and I was sure that Potter thought he was in the clear, I made my move.

_"Petrificus Totalus!" _I pointed my wand to the space above my head and was happy to see the form of my rival fall from the high rack. I gave Potter the most genuinely malicious smile I had. "I thought so. I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash through the air when Zabini came back." I said to him with a satisfied look. I wasn't going crazy after all! I made sure that I rubbed it in to Potter where his mistakes had lie. It was a pleasant feeling to stand over my enemy and have him helpless.

"You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here..." It was then that I brought my foot down hard on the other boy's face. I heard the sickening crack of his nose breaking and I reveled in the sight of the blood flowing freely from the break. With a snicker, I pulled the cloak from underneath him and flung it over his frozen form. I wanted to make sure that the git wasn't found for a very long time. The memory of that moment, would sustain me for most of the year. Little did I know that not even that would keep that year form being the worst of my life.

* * *

_With those encounters, my sixth year at Hogwarts was starting. I know that you will most likely find little humor in those events, but they soon became the highlights of my year. Nothing else that year would go as smoothly._


	3. The First Month

**Author's note: **I have only recieved one review thus far, and I am quite sad about that. I was hoping that more people would be interested. However, that doesn't mean that I am going to stop writing, because I do like this story and I can't base my willingness to continue on what everyone else think sof it. Who cares. Well, This is the third chapter and I'm glad things are getting rolling. I'm not sure if I am rushing a bit or not, but I guess I wont know until people start reviewing. So get to it people!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Draco, Harry, Ginny or the rest of our favorite gang. I own Draco's thoughts and that's about it. Thank you JK, for giving me inspiration to procrastinate.

**Chapter Three: The First Month**

_I am sure that you have no sympathy for me at this point. That's good, as I do not seek any. I am only telling you my story to make you understand. It has become increasingly aparent in my life that nobody truly believes in the in-between. The way that people viewed the world during my childhood was in black and white terms. The longer I have lived, the more I have come to realize that things have not truly changed. I tell you this story, my friend, because I have heard you described as an open minded person. Even those who would eventually come to save me, would never look on me as one of them. It isn't as if I seek their friendship, I only wished that they would understand better. Nobody ever really understands though, do they? You are my last hope to complete my story. Not even those who are closest to me know the entire tale, and you are the only person who ever will._

_Please keep your open mind, you might need it through this tale. _

* * *

The first night back at Hogwarts, I relished in the fact that Potter was so late for the feast that it was nearly over when he arrived. The prat looked like his face had been gored by a crumple-horned snorkak (if they existed, of course). There was a mass of dried blood smearing his perfect complexion and he was drawing the attention of the entire Great Hall. That sort of attention normally would have annoyed me, but I was far too delighted in the fact that he looked so beaten. What's more, the fact that I was the one who had caused such a glorious show. I merely smirked in my normal Malfoy way as I watched the dream team fuss over their illustrious leader. I snorted in disapproval as I noticed the clumsy oaf of a half giant waving at Scarface. Who could have ever thought that such a sniveling idiot had opened the chamber of secrets? Moreso, who could have mistaken him for the heir of Slytherin? There was no way that a brainless goon like Hagrid could be the heir of a great man like Salazaar Slytherin.

Of course, my father had told me of the first time the chamber had been opened. He told me that Hagrid had been the one accused of it. Of course, he refused to tell me any more, and I still don't know what had happened exactly. Of course, I knew that it had to do with Potter and the youngest Weasel brat. My eyes immediately flicked over to the younger girl at this thought. I had to admit that she was pleasant on the eyes, but there were no other redeeming qualities. She may have been an attractive girl, but my ego was still a bit bruised by the bat-bogey hex she had placed on me the year before. She was just as insufferable as the rest of Potter's little cronies. I sneered in disgust as I turned back to my bread pudding.

The rest of the night had gone on as normal. I sneered at Potter and he glared back. Pansy attatched herself to my arm and fawned over me, and I showed her a disinterested air. Crabbe and Goyle stuffed their faces and I merely watched on with a morbid fascination as to how a slytherin could be so unmannered as the two of them. Of course, I had other thoughts on my mind as well that night. I couldn't be bothered with the endless chatting of the rest of the Slytherins. I had always known myself above them, but with the Dark Lord's assignment, it was proven. The Dark Lord had marked me as worthy and he had left the rest of my simpering classmates to lead their meaningless lives. I was better in every sense of the word. Nothing could have changed my views at that point. It would take a few months before I started doubting myself.

The first day of classes was interesting... to say the least. I, of course, had my N.E.W.T.S. potion class with the Gryffindors. It wasn't a surprising event, because we had been having the class together since our first year. The Headmaster felt that combining the rival houses would help to create more of a comraderie between the polar opposites. Over the years though, it was apparent that our close proximity only lent to more animosity as the years went on. The crazy old codger actually though that slytherins and gryffindors would get along? It was clearly impossible. My surprises, however, occured when I walked into the dungeon room and discovered that Slughorn was standing at the front of the class and Potter and Weasley were seated across the room. There was also a strong scent of mint and lavenders in the room. At that point, I knew that the world had turned upside down. Potter and Weasley couldn't create a calming draught if their lives depended on it! I was incensed. I had thought, that for once in my life I was going to be able to enjoy my favorite class without having to deal with the presence of Potty and the Weasel. The mudblood's presence was expected, but Snape would never have allowed the other two near the dungeon's after the O.W.L.S. As for the odd scent in the room, that was later explained by Granger as an effect of one of the potions.

Of course, Snape wasn't there. Slughorn was teaching now. I let a disgruntled sigh escape my lips as I made my way to a table, taking my seat next to Nott, my fellow slytherin. It hadn't taken Slughorn long to get into a discussion of the three different couldrons at the front of the room. It also didn't take Granger too long to start spouting all of her coveted knowledge. It made me sick, she was one of the biggest pieces of trash in the room and Slughorn was practically fawning over her explanation of the first couldron filled with polyjuice potion and the second one of amortentia. Slughorn quickly asked if Granger was in any way related to an old potioneer. I couldn't help but laugh inwardly as she told Slughorn that she was a mudblood.

I leaned into Nott's bulky form and whispered in a satisfied way. " Like that thing could pass for anything remotely human, let alone an accomplished wizard. She resembles more of a hedgehog, maybe Slugface is into beastiality."

Nott chuckled amusedly as we turned our attention back to the scene unfolding in front of us. I nearly fell out of my seat when Slughorn mentioned his best friend being muggle-born. My father had spoken so highly of him! How could he be a blood traitor? I was momentarily mortified, but hid it under a cool mask. When Slughorn continued his speech about how powerful amortentia really was, Nott and I shared a skeptical smirk before he turned to us and nodded gravely.

"You know, I think this guy's as crazy as Moody was." Nott whispered to me, stealing a glance at Slughorn and eyeing him warily. Of course obsession was a powerful tool, but it wasn't nearly as powerful as hate. I just nodded my agreement as Slughorn went on to explain the last couldron's contents. As soon as he told us the contents of the smaller couldron, I was mesmerized. What was more was that he was giving away a vial of it to the student who created the best Draught of Living Death in the room. _Felix Felicis, _liquid luck. It was something that would have been very useful to me in my mission. It would probably be something that could ensure my success. Suddenly, I was crazed thinking about the possibilities. I rifled through my potions book and quickly started the Draught of Living Death.

I hadn't yet forgotten how Slughorn had overlooked me when inviting people to join his little club. In an attempt to remind him who I was and who my family was, I brought up mention of my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. Much to my disdain, Slughorn simply blew me off. From that point on, I worked more diligently to prove myself. Not only that, maybe if I took the Felix Felicis on the day that my mission would be carried out, maybe I would be lucky enough that the old coot would die too. At this thought, I smirked to myself, the potion was as good as mine.

The last thing that I had expected that day though, was for Potter to win. I was incensed. How could he beat me in potions? The insufferable prat beat me in fame, glory, quidditch, popularity and then he beat me in _potions_? Scarhead was taking away the only thing that I had truly outperformed him in and I was beyond angry. With a sneer in the direction of the golden trio, I threw my bag over my shoulder and marched out of the room, leaving a confused and irritated Nott trailing behind.

I spent the rest of the day in a huff, barely speaking to anyone and verbally assaulting anyone that I could find in the hallways. During dinner, Pansy hung on me mercilessly. I swear, if I had really been a piece of steak, the blood-sucker would have eaten me already. The insufferable wench barely left my side throughout the day, unless our class schedules were conflicting. Her constant presence not only made my bad mood worse, but it gave me little time to plan my attack. I also knew that I would have to leave Hogwarts that night. The key to my entire plan was in Hogsmeade, and I somehow had to get to it. I looked around the great hall and sneered as I stood to leave the great room.

"Draco darling, where are you going? I thought we were going to spend the night together..." Pansy's nasal voice rang up to me, almost making me cringe. I turned to her and nodded, trying to think up the best excuse I could muster.

_"Go find someone else to smother, you gutless whore!" _

Alright, well I didn't say that. I was thinking about it though! I swear! If I could have done any one thing at that moment, I would have ripped out her little pink tongue and shoved it down her throat to make sure that she never spoke again. Either that or give her a ton-tongue toffee. Either way, I couldn't act on my feelings, because father would have disapproved.

"I have to go talk to professor Snape. I will be back in the commons around ten." I replied, schooling my face into a cool mask as I turned away from my fellow students. I walked out of the great hall, paying no attention to Pansy's pleas. I couldn't be bothered with such trivial nonsense as that cow's feelings. There were much bigger fish to fry that night. As I turned a corner on the second floor, I ran into something that knocked me backwards onto the ground.

"What the...?" I sneered as I gingerly rubbed my bum, standing up from the spot where I had fallen. I looked down at the person who had unknowingly thrown me with such force and a feeling of disgust shot through me. It was disgust, but there was something else mixed in there as well. Maybe it was surprise that the littlest Weasel could possibly have thrown me to the ground like that.

"Watch where you're going, blood-traitor. Wouldn't want you running into anyone that would want to hurt you." I added in a menacing tone as I took a step towards her sprawled body.

"I...I..." She started nervously as I advanced on her helpless form. Of course, I remembered that she wasn't quite as helpless as I would have liked to believe, but that was besides the point. I was going to take any chance that I could to intimidate a Weasley. I smirked at the girl, seeing the trouble she was having forming her reply.

"I see that you're just as thick as Weasel and Scarhead. Can't even form a real sentence. I wonder why your parents would even bother sending you to school. I mean, I'm sure that they could use that tuition money to buy food. Although from the looks of it, your mother doesn't need to eat any more." I chuckled mirthlessly, seeing the dumbfounded look in the girl's eyes. Then, as quickly as it had come, her expression changed to one of fierce anger as she stood and faced me. I was quite surprised to see how she drew herself to her full height and was almost as tall as me.

"What, Malfoy, stooping to insulting my mother's weight are you? If that's the game, I'll play. At least my mother eats. It looks to me like _your _mother throws up her meals. What, has she taken to hunger strikes to get your father out of Azkaban? Or has she always looked like a corpse? I mean, I wouldn't be surprised considering that she produced something as revolting as you." The Weaslette replied, throwing me a smirk to match my own. "Oh! I know what it is, it's the sight of you across the dinner table that makes her have to ralf up her meal! I know I'd throw up if I had to look at your mug every night." The girl added, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

More than anything at that moment, I wanted to forget about my mission and kill the little chit. She insulted my entire family in one go! I hadn't even been able to do that! I wanted to strangle the little wench. She gave me a satisfied smile as she turned on her heel and walked down the hallway. For once in my life, I was too stunned and angry to do a thing about it. By the time I finally collected my thoughts enough to curse the Weaslette into next week, she was gone and I had missed my chance. I swore silently and continued to make my way towards my previous destination, the statue of the old witch.

Everyone at Hogwarts was familiar with the grotesque crone's statue, but very few knew that there was a passageway hidden in her hump back. This passageway led to none other than the basement of Honeyduke's. When I finally reached the hag, I pushed against her back and watched it open into a dark cavern. Not taking a moments pause, I entered the dark passage and whispered "lumos" to ignite the tip of my wand. The walls were grimy and the floor made of packed dirt. It didn't take long for me to make the trek to the trapdoor in Honeyduke's basement.

Honeydukes was closed by the time I got there, just as I had planned. With the shop empty, I had my chance to make it through undetected. I had formed my plan perfectly. I made my way out of the shop and started towards the Three Broomsticks, making no stops along the way and garnering very little attention in my hooded robe. I imagined that there were a good many people in Hogsmeade who would travel in anonymity as I was. Once I reached the doors to the kitchen of the pub, I made my way in, not wanting to go through the main entrance, lest there be a professor or two there. Reaching of my wand, I alohamorad my way into the building and took up a seat in a dark corner, waiting for my prey to arrive.

Nearly a half an hour after my arrival, I watched as a the ample-bosomed Rosmerta made her way into the cramped kitchen, the door behind her releasing a cacaphony of sounds as it was opened and quickly swung shut. I took a moment to watch as the older woman bustled around the room, presumably preparing some food for one of her patrons. She was quite a good looking woman, with her rosy cheeks and sweet disposition. She also, as I had learned, was not completely there at times and she trusted far too easily. When the woman least expected it, I pointed my wand at her back and muttered an almost silent '_imperio_'.

I was pleased to see the reaction that came from her. She immediately stiffened and I could feel her struggle against the curse.

"It's surprising, isn't it? The curse has far more power if the subject doesn't expect it coming. Rosmerta, haven't you learned by now that you have to keep an eye open at all times? I would think that you would have been more viligant with a dark wizard on the loose and his followers everywhere." I whispered to her as I made my way closer to the woman. I took ahold of her upper arm, turning her to face me, making sure that she understood the gravity of the situation she allowed herself to be placed in. When her eyes met mine though, I saw a plethora of emotions pass behind them. She was scared, and I had caused that fear. A pang of emotion went through my heart as I saw her pleading eyes, but I quickly shook it away. Malfoy's did not feel guilty. My momentary relapse would have been quickly punished if it had occured in front of the Dark Lord.

"Don't worry, woman. No harm will come to you if you help me. If you disobey me, on the other hand, I will make sure that you suffer endlessly before I take your life myself." I spoke in the same hushed tone as before, not moving my eyes from hers. I could see a hint of sadness behind her gaze and I almost laughed out loud. Of course she knew that I was serious, and I thought that she was fearful of her life. Later, however, I learned that the sadness she felt at the time, was because she saw me as a lost boy. She was sad that I had been dragged into the godforsaken war. If she had told me then how she felt, I would have cursed her into oblivion. However, it was many years later that she told me of her feelings that night. I had turned into a twisted and lost youth, and she knew it from the moment that she recognized me.

When I finally broke eye contact, it was to reach into the pocket of my robes. I pulled out a small. black velvet bag that held the real key to my plan. When I handed it to her, she opened it and took out the small coin that resided within. Rosmerta threw me a confused look before I began to explain the purpose of the coin.

"This is how I will contact you with my instructions. This is also how you will contact me with any information you think will be of use and to tell me when you have finished your tasks. You merely place the tip of your wand on that mark in the middle of the coin. You say a simple incantation and then you will tell the coin the information that you are sending to me. I will recieve the information through the same incantation. This is also how you will hear your assignments from me. Don't try to escape this and don't withold information from me. I will know if you do and I will have to punish you. You will be recieving a package soon. It will not come by owl, but will be given to you by someone personally. Tell me when you have recieved this package and I will tell you what to do with it." I finished my speech to her and I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head again.

When Rosmerta began to speak, I quickly placed my finger on her lips to silence her. I didn't say another word as I turned and made my way out of the pub and back to the castle. I knew what Rosmerta was going to say. She would have gone into a speech about how I shouldn't be doing this and how I was just a boy. She was going to try and beg me to give it up, but I wasn't about to listen to her. My task was clear and the outcome could not be stopped. If I didn't do what I was told, the consequences would be disastrous and I wasn't willing to allow that to happen. I knew full well what I was doing, or at least I thought that I did.

* * *

_You see? My plan was beginning to go into fruition and I was going to kill Dumbledore. That didn't mean exactly what you all think it does. Rosmerta's eyes had shaken me up more than I could even tell you. That one look that she gave me made me want to abandon the whole thing. What would have happened if I had given in? My life would be so different than it is now. That is, I would have probably been killed. There is no denying my reasoning as much as you may think I should have stopped my escapade with Rosmerta. You have no idea how much my decision haunted me. My mission made me feel powerful, as did my corruption of Rosmerta. However, there was no way that I could back out._

_You may try to tell me that Dumbledore would have protected me, but at what proce? Would I have just gone from serving one master to another? Would I have just become the lapdog of a muggle-lover? Would I have even been able to survive disobeying the dark lord? There really is no telling what would have happened. I can only find solace in the validity of my reasoning. No matter what any person will tell me, I did what I had to. It was self-preservation at the highest and I wasn't going to sacrifice myself on the altar of bravery. I was still a Slytherin._


End file.
